Yassine chuckled, shaking his head at the ludicrousness of the British captain thinking they actually stood a chance. “If you win, I’ll even throw in an extra galleon for your miracle,” he said with an easy wave of his hand; he could hear his father and the most uptight of his brothers at the back of his mind telling him he was an absolute disgrace and this was why they were glad he’d never joined them in business.
“Ah, and do you speak the language?” Yassine said cheerfully, switching to Spanish. “I was in Seville for a few seasons,” he explained, though he fully expected his British opponents, if they were worth their salt and had any designs on an international quidditch career themselves, to have kept up with his. (But then, if Yassine had his way in the world, everyone would know who he was, wherever he went, preferably for at least the next century.) “And it is better than my English,” he barked out in English again, just in case Zavala couldn’t.
“Ah, and do you speak the language?” Yassine said cheerfully, switching to Spanish. “I was in Seville for a few seasons,” he explained, though he fully expected his British opponents, if they were worth their salt and had any designs on an international quidditch career themselves, to have kept up with his. (But then, if Yassine had his way in the world, everyone would know who he was, wherever he went, preferably for at least the next century.) “And it is better than my English,” he barked out in English again, just in case Zavala couldn’t.
